The Olympics: Rebecca learns a valuable lesson

I was going to write a post about my feelings about the Olympics, but then I decided against it. If I had written it, it would have gone approximately like this:

"The 2010 Winter Olympics have begun, and once again I am not paying attention. I consider it impressive that I even knew ahead of time that they were beginning--I didn't know about the Bejing games until a tv at the gym with a million drummers drumming caught my eye. The only Olympic event I can ever remember watching was the 2004 men's hockey finals, and that day I volunteered to take the chair facing away from the tv, since I wouldn't have paid attention anyway. It's not like I hate the Olympics, I just am a very non-sporty person from a non-sporty background. I don't know the names of any of the athletes, nor even the rules to most of the sports, and nor do I care to know. It just seems like a huge amount of energy and time and tonnes of money goes into this event for a tiny group of people to participate in, having nothing to do with life in this country as a whole, and I'm a bit uncomfortable with that."

The reason I did not write that post is that another post occurred to me, one which I'd never write, but I better countless others have done variations on. It goes like this:

"I was walking through the bookstore on my way to the movies, not paying any attention to the books on the shelves. I consider it impressive that I even knew where the bookstore was--I only found it as a shortcut to the theatre. The only literary reading I can remember ever attending, I just stared answered emails on my Blackberry the whole time, since I wouldn't have paid attention anyway. It's not like I hate books, I'm just a very non-literary person from a non-literary background. I don't know the names of any authors nor what a sonnet is, and nor do I care to know. It seems to me that a huge amount of energy and time and tonnes of money goes towards publishing these things for a tiny group of people to read, having nothing to do with life in this country as a whole, and I'm a bit uncomfortable with that."

If the second post must be false--just because some people don't care about literature doesn't mean literature is a waste of time--then likely the first is, too. I remain unconverted, but more supportive, perhaps, of those who strive to be the best at something I don't care about. It's a good thing I'm not the arbiter of anything. To paraphrase Beatrice Hall a bit, "I am not interested in what the athletes are doing, but I will defend their right to do it" (maybe not until the death; also, did you know that the original line is not Voltaire).

This whole thought process has been illuminating. Who knows who I'll empathize with tomorrow?
RR

Genki days

If there's one thing these two weeks in Japan have taught me, it's that even the few words of vocab in Japanese I have learnt may not actually be valid in context. Be that as it may, I am pretty sure "genki" means merry and happy and fun, and the past few days of celebrating my birthday (what, I'm celebrating all month, right? I mean, how often does one turn 31?) have definitely been that. Starting the morning of the 23rd (I was born at dawn, but not in this time zone) in pictures:


We leave at dawn for the Tskuiji fish market. The only time during my trip that I have worn eye-makeup. Just seemed appropriate.

The outside of the market. Very intimidating, but very exciting.

Fishmongers and longshorefolk ride through the market on these little motorized carts. They move fast, they are loaded with fish and ice that has to be somewhere pronto there are nolanes or laws that they subscribe to, and they hate tourists.

Beautiful fish (there are a dozen similar pics, on Facebook because of the upload problem and because not everyone finds fish as poetic as I do.)

Tuna butchery.

Delightful sushi breakfast. As it turned out, I was not at all weirded out by eating raw fish and wasabi at 9am. Very happy to, in fact.

Birthday monorail (to Odaiba).

MeSci--the Museum of Emerging Science (it was great, but all my interior photos such; perhaps I can sum of the experience with "robot-POV simulation").

Odaiba beach frolic. I love being 31.

Cake buffet. Cake on one's birthday is very important.

Eating cake for supper. Life as it should be.

On to the 24th. Ben and his friend Ichiro, and a whole lot of other people, at the Tokyo Dome to cheer on the Giants (down with the Kobe Buffaloes, although they did in fact win in the end).

Gosh, the fans were amazing and intense. They sang the "hip-hooray" song for the final half hour of the game. Intense and tuneful. I sang too--it wasn't that hard to learn. You just sub in each player's name as the line-up bats. In fact, it works with my name too: "Hip-hooray, hip-hooray, hey Rebecca, hip-hooray." We sang that so many times I though I felt my teeth start to realign around the words. Probably not really though.

More singing. Ben and his friends Yuka (left) and Miu sing "Ring of Fire" in a kareoke box.

So ends this installment of pictures, although I fully intend to keep celebrating the birthday until the end of May, or possibly all year. Thanks to all who sent greetings--and if you sent me a card before I left Canada, please know that it is here with me in the small birthday shrine I have built in my room. Man, I love birthdays!!

Hip-hooray
RR

"Baseball" in Japanese and baseball in Japan

The Japanese word for "baseball" is yakyū, combining the characters for field and ball. My current guesstimate on pronunciation is "YAK-yoo"...anybody know?

Baseball is a big deal in Japan, and a genuine part of the culture, for close to 150 years. The games sell out, players become celebrities, and, I like to imagine, nobody leaves in the 7th inning the way lame and silly people do at Jays games (not that I don't love Jays games with all my heart. It's for that reason, actually, that my heart breaks a little when people abandon their team before the game ends in order to "beat traffic"! Ahhh! You could really triumph over traffic by never leaving home, people!!)

It is, I am discovering, extremely complicated to order tickets to Japanese ballgames. But I shall perservere, somehow, to eat lovely snacks in the Big Egg and join in the happy cheering! I'm going to figure this out...somewise. But just to be safe, I'll also be ordering Jays tickets sometime soon, because really, they aren't exotic, sometimes the fans are lame, and the snack food is terrible at the Stadium Whose Name We Don't Say, but otherwise, they are the best team in the world.

I don't mean to care about material things
RR

Summerish variety pack

Summer is coming on in Toronto, which means many places are refrigerated inside. This morning, I left the house bare-armed and bare-legged for the first time this year, and momentarily reveled in the air on my limbs. Then I got on the bus and started to shiver. My war with air-conditioning is decidedly lopsided, since I am out of step with most of the rest of the population, temperature-wise. I had dinner on a patio last night, and with the aid of tights and a cardigan, was able to last until well past dark, but indoor deep-freezes are harder to counter.

Enough with the kvetching; I had *dinner* on a *patio* last night. I'm going to a *BBQ* on Saturday! It is summer and life is sweet. Oh, and my birthday on Wednesday was lovely as well, thanks to all well-wishers. I ran and read and wrote and dined: these are a few of my favourite things.

Oh, and this starts out as a complaint, but then improves: I have more or less mastered the 15-pound dumbbells at the gym, but can scarcely twitch at the 20s, and was fuming of the lack of 17-pound dumbbells, at Hart House or possibly in the world. My solution was to do one set of pathetic half-raises with the 20s and then switch to 15s, and hope somehow (by osmosis?) I eventually get strong enough to do the 20s, preferably before one of the big boys of the weight room notices me and comments, "Um, you know you're not actually lifting those, right?" The good bit? I just feel so *jocky,* having a problem with free weights, when all my other problems concern words.

With regard to that, this is going to be a CanLit summer, because another word problem is that I haven't read near enough of the nearby literature. There will be exceptions, natch--already, I can foresee that I *must* read Then We Came to the End very soon or go mad with wanting to. But, yes, the bulk of my reading time with go towards my countrymen and -women. Onward, at this very moment, actually, to Clark Blaise, who has been precise and potent and deeply disturbing so far. I've been missing a great deal, clearly, and I intend to rectify that.

Get gotten
RR

The Rose-coloured Sports Report

Who could lie--tactical mistakes were made. The pre-game run-up and most of the first inning saw serious strategic errors, including one spectator taking an overlong sunlit jog in the ravine, making her late for the game. This was compounded by circling the stadium formerly known as Skydome (renominative efforts being another strategic mistake) in the wrong direction in search gate 10, assuming that gate 10 would be unlocked just because tickets asserted that it ought to be, falling up a flight of stone stairs in search of gate 14, and then circling the 500-level deck in the wrong direction upon arrival. And let's not even mention the decidedly non-genius plan from the girl-with-braces that involved purchasing her tofu dog from an outside vendor, covering it with condiments and then placing it inside a tupperware container to eat carefully with a knife and fork once solidly seated in the stands. To be fair, that one almost worked, despite derision from the crowd.

By the bottom of the first, however, I was comfortably ensconced next to aisle 125 and the Jays were up by three over the jauntily attired but insensibly sloppy Texans. It was a great, if suspenseless game; the Jays took the lead while I was still rattling at the gate 10 doors, and never lost it, winding up the game at 7-1. Very nice. The sun was bright, the company stellar (although initially concerned that I was lost and/or injured en route to the game, having missed my beloved national anthems) and the tofu dog delicious, if ridiculous. There was one error, but unfortunately I was looking at a bird when it occurred, and so cannot report.

Post-game, we stopped at a sports bar to see Buffalo tie it up with New York 1-1 somewhere in the third period. Ok, technically, I was buying ice-cream and saw nothing, but I believe my colleagues. This brought about talk of which sports tolerate ties, and which will play on relentlessly until a winner is established. We think that it may be only non-playoff soccor and CFL football that permit ambiguous endings, and wonder if it is the athletic demands of the game or the emotional demands of the fans that force other sports into endless overtime in pursuit of definitive victory. Do you know?

In short, the day was joyful, although slightly darkened with the news that Rose-coloured will be losing a sports commentator, though gaining a Mideast correspondent; Dan will be relocating to Saudi Arabia at the end of next month. This announcement is cause for more excitement than dismay, and we here at Rose-coloured are campaigning for a Dan-based blog ("Dan-coloured"?) to record overseas events.

Finally, while not strictly a sport, Phon's bachelorette also occurred this weekend. It was, if not athletic, certainly educational, and entertaining. Congrats, Phon and Brent, on the wedding and all future "activities."

Little Miss Listless / A little bit of Christmas
RR